Until yesterday, he had still been Lord Gunter von Kleist. At least, that's what everyone had called him.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm asking myself if a substance that's been stored for over a thousand years is still going to have exactly the same effects now as it did back then."
The something that had once been Lord Gunter von Kleist looked down from above on two people who seemed to him to be old friends. If he wasn't completely confused, one was Lord Gwendal von Voltaire, the unmistakable and unmitigated ice block, and the other was Lady Anissina von Kavernikov, also known as Anissina the Red.
"So another possibility might be that this poison was prepared with fresh ingredients from a recipe passed down over time. If that's the case then I can only say: Bravo! Just finding the necessary ingredients would have been no child's play. The salt-monkey testicles are notably--"
"Stop!"
"Now what's your problem?"
From his high vantage point, Lord Gunter von Kleist could see very clearly that Gwendal was losing his composure. Even Gwendal, who normally presented only a cold and surly expression to the world, was capable of other emotions when he had the right opponent in front of him.
"Couldn't you show a little bit more modesty, just for today?"
"Modesty? I don't know of a single experiment where such a sentiment would have been of any use. I don't waste my time with such feelings. But speaking of modesty: Gunter's snow bunny is beginning to melt. I don't have a problem with it, but for you men it would surely be very embarrassing, isn't that true?"
The something that had once been Gunter smiled to itself and let its gaze wander around the room.
"Iiiiiieh!"
What a shocking sight! He had finally noticed the corpse in the middle of the room, lying in a coffin filled with ice. Between its legs perched a slowly dissolving snow rabbit which looked up at him with accusatory eyes.
"He's woken up," observed Anissina.
"Then I'm dead?! Like a poor little light blown out by a gust of wind?! Oh, but what an exquisite visage I still am, even in death... What a gorgeous figure! How wonderful it would be if His Majesty could see me like this!"
"Now he seems to have completely lost his mind. Love is a well-established cause of senility, or something like that. Gwendal, hand me that thing, please."
Lord von Voltaire's hands, calloused from swordfighting, reached for him and before he could prevent it, he was pulled downward from his high perch. Had his soul really been seized by bare hands? The something that had once been Gunter began to protest loudly.
"Gwendal! A newly deceased soul shouldn't be touched so recklessly! There's a chance it might not be able to be reborn again! Oh! You're probably just jealous of me, since I intend to be united with His Majesty in the next life! Your goal is to thwart my plans! Iiiiiiieh! Please don't put me on this table, it's full of dust! Achoo! Achoo! Aaaaaaachoo!"
"Is there no way to get him to shut his mouth?"
"I'm afraid the only thing that might stop his mouth is death." Anissina raised her well-formed eyebrows and rummaged around in a drawer, pulling out a piece of sticky tape. She pulled the paper backing off of a long, thin piece and stuck it in the face of the something.
"Listen carefully to what I have to tell you! No matter how much it disappoints you, you are still counted among the living. Your soul has simply been separated from your body, that's all. I have secured your astral body so that it can't escape."
"Oioioi..."
"For your astral body's safe-keeping, I located a suitable vessel, in which you now find yourself."
"Iiiiiieh!"
When he heard the word "vessel," he inevitably thought of a glass the size of a flower vase, in which his brain floated in some kind of liquid. That was simply too disgusting. Oh, what terrible luck! His ice-gray hair, his violet eyes had been locked away -- all his beauty had been reduced to a peach-colored mass of brain cells.
"Don't worry, we haven't pickled your brain. After all, I wouldn't want to ruin my appetite," Anissina said, and Gwendal promptly grimaced.
Presumably he'd imagined a pickled schoolmaster. To clear up this terrible misunderstanding once and for all, Gwendal held a mirror in the face of the vessel that had once been Gunter.
"This is what you look like now."
In the brightly polished mirror, Gunter saw snow-white skin, scarlet red lips like a bud just before it blooms, and shining, back-length hair. The vessel was a foreign doll in a kimono.
It was the length of a forearm, and one-third of that length was the doll's head. The bangs ended above the eyebrows in a perfectly straight line. The hair, the curved eyebrows, and the smiling, crescent-shaped eyes were all an aristocratic and elegant black. Anissina brutally ripped the tape from the mouth of the doll.
"How do you like her? I've christened you with the name 'Madam Butterfly-Gunter, Bride of the Demon King.'"
"The bride of the Demon King, you say?" Gunter repeated the words with a throbbing heart.
"You said it, my dear Madam Butterfly-Gunter. And over there, the valiant Snow Gunter is resting. In spite of Lord von Bielefeld's eccentric tastes, even he gave Madam Butterfly-Gunter a giant round of applause. He said she fits perfectly with His Majesty."
"Really?"
The doll turned its head 180 degrees; her smiling eyes looked Gwendal directly in the face.
Gwendal's body flinched as if a cold shudder had run down his back.
"What a glorious masterpiece I've achieved!" proclaimed Anissina. "I constructed the doll so that she can perform various types of movements gracefully. Her jaw rattles prettily when she talks, and her hair will grow longer over time -- even when she is simply left to sit in a corner. She can even fire Killer Beams with her eyes! Better yet, this doll has mastered the art of levitation!"
"Does that mean I can fly?! How fantastic! I've got to give it a try right now!"
Gunter shoved himself upwards off the worktable and began to hover. Only a few centimeters over the surface of the table, he began to move as slowly as an infant. Meanwhile, he let out dreadful noises as if a giant fly was circling in the room. Indeed, levitation was a success, though airy heights were still out of reach.
"Isn't my invention wonderful? Just for today, she's priced at a laughable 98 gold pieces! And she comes with a magnificent box as a free gift!"
"How about two for the price of one?" hummed Gwendal.
"Men! Nothing is ever enough for you!"
In their own particular way, Gwendal and Anissina were one heart and one soul. As Gunter watched them amusing themselves at his expense, he felt displeasure take root within him.
Of course, in spite of all this, he should have considered himself lucky. When one fell victim to this poison, as a rule one couldn't expect so much as an honorable death. Even worse, it was customary to burn the corpse and scatter the ashes in the wind -- so horrific was this poison.
"An escort is being sent to all members of the Wincott family. Unfortunately we don't know the whereabouts of all the people who have Wincott blood in their veins. Should a young Wincott leave the empire and reveal his identity frivolously, he runs the risk of being used," explained Anissina.
"W...what are you trying to say? Is one of the ten noble families taking aim at my life? Was the tip of the arrow that hit me coated with this... this appalling Wincott Poison?! The poison that turns you into the willing marionette of your enemy, even after your death? The poison that eats the flesh from your bones?"
"That's right, my dear. In light of your symptoms, there can be no doubt. The tip of the arrow was coated with precisely this poison."
The doll's jaw dropped open with a clack.
"But why would anyone want to make a marionette out of me? What a piece of luck that I could at least protect His Majesty from this fate! It doesn't bear thinking about, if something terrible had happened to him! Where is he, anyway? Where is His Majesty?!"
Madam Butterfly-Gunter would never have guessed that at that very moment, Yuri himself was posing as a descendant of the Wincotts.
Lord von Bielefeld paused silently before the mountain of mud. The motions of the soldiers, who had spent the entire night performing the search operation, had become sluggish from exhaustion.
They had not been able to recover the smallest object that could be matched to the missing persons, neither from the space behind the church nor the territory on the slope affected by the avalanche. There was still only the presumed left arm of Lord Weller that had been found at the beginning. They hadn't gotten a single step farther.
If they'd been carried away by the landslide, then why hadn't the bodies been found? Everything had been dug up. Even if the explosion had ripped them apart, the blue demon stone at least should have been there. Conrad's sword, a collar pin, a soldier's boot, something. Yet even though every stone had been turned over twice, nothing had been found. Thus the chances of survival for the two of them were continuously increasing.
"Hey!"
At Wolfram's call, the soldiers lifted their heads from the dirt.
"As soon as the reinforcements get here, you will be relieved from duty. Until then, take a rest."
"But Your Excellency, don't we need to work as fast as possible...?"
"No. The rain has stopped. The work can wait until mid-day. Morgan, has there been any news from the castle?"
"No, not since we learned that His Excellency Gunter had regained consciousness."
"All right. I'm heading back there anyway to try to ascertain the current state of affairs. As for the rest of the search, I'm relying entirely on you.
"Yes, sir. But Your Excellency...?"
"What is it?"
The soldier couldn't hide his concern from Wolfram, who had jumped up onto his horse smoothly.
"Please take an escort with you for your protection."
"You think I might be attacked?"
"The danger absolutely exists."
"All the more reason for me to ride alone. It's the fastest way to find out who the enemy is and where we need to strike."
The men cheered him on as Wolfram rode away. One wouldn't have thought the spoiled princeling was capable of such audacity.
Although more riders were going in and out than usual, an air of peace lay over Blood Pledge Castle.
The people could not be allowed to discover that an assassination attempt had been made on the king's life, and that his life was still feared for. The city lay right at the foot of the castle. Even the smallest sign of disturbance would be noticed by the civilians. One couldn't be careful enough.
After riding slowly through the city, Wolfram increased his pace. He passed the castle gate and turned his horse to the north, towards the foothills of the mountains. Spring was on its way, and a delicate green began to line the path. When they reached the mountainside, the animal was exhausted, and further progress could only be made on foot. Silently, Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld tackled the incline.
Fire burned day and night in the Ancestral Temple of the Original King. Without permission from the priestesses, entrance was forbidden to men. A burly female soldier guarded the entryway.
"Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld? What is the reason for your visit?"
"I have a question for the priestesses. I'm coming in now."
"Please wait, Your Excellency! Even though you are a man of high rank, you can't enter without an invitation from the Original King or his priestesses."
"This is an emergency! Out of the way!"
"But Your Excellency!"
Shaking off the guard, Wolfram forced his way into the building. His quick steps echoed to the tall ceiling. His swirling hair was mirrored in the highly polished black floor. He had visited this place a few times before, following the laws of etiquette, but this was the first time he'd done so on his own initiative. In the wide hallway, he passed young women keeping a close eye on the intruder. They whispered things to each other with their mouths hidden behind their sleeves. Most of them were still in training to become priestesses and were still wet behind the ears. They still wore their hair at the customary hip length.
"Your Excellency Wolfram," a voice suddenly called. When he turned around, a young woman with a bowl of fruit was coming towards him. It was Lord von Kleist's daughter, a talented military doctor. She looked different than usual: her hair was up and she wasn't wearing a military uniform. Her green eyes darkened with concern as she gently reprimanded the colleague she'd known since childhood.
"What's happened? Men aren't allowed to enter the temple without permission and an escort."
"Gisela, I'm in a hurry. What are you doing here, anyway? You're obviously not on duty."
"That's true. After my father's life was saved, I wanted to pray for the safety of His Majesty and Conrad... I mean, His Excellency Conrad."
Even though Wolfram now found himself in the company of a woman, he would never dream of slowing his pace. This inconsiderate behavior was one of the reasons he wasn't particularly sought after by the opposite sex. Gisela, on the other hand, didn't place great importance on the special treatment of women, and so they hurried forwards together at a soldier's tempo.
The deeper into the Ancestral Temple they pressed, the higher the rank of the priestesses they came across. They became aware of younger girls at the side of the hallways and behind the doorways, hanging their heads. The collective sadness seemed strange.
"It seems to have hit them very hard that the priestesses lost track of His Majesty," said Gisela.
Just before the entrance to the inner sanctum, a female soldier barred his way again. Behind this door lived Ulrike, the highest and oldest of the priestesses; the receiver and herald of the venerable word of the Original King.
"The Oracle Priestess Ulrike receives no one."
"This is an emergency!" Wolfram barked at her, but she didn't so much as bat an eyelash. Although she didn't appear to be particularly athletically built, she made no move to retreat even one step back from Wolfram.
"Holing yourself up in there just because you botched Yuri's return trip is pointless!" Wolfram roared. "Open the door immediately!"
"Your Excellency! You could be a little more considerate," Gisela commented.
"Do you want money? A financial sacrifice? Is that it? If so, name your price! I've had enough!"
"Your Excellency! That's a shameful sacrilege against our priestess! Venerable Ulrike! Please answer as quickly as possible! This person might dare to break down the door!"
Wolfram's pent-up feelings discharged in a powerful explosion. His threats had such an intimidating effect that even the guard looked down at the floor.
"I'm going to break down this door here and now! I make no promises! If you drive me to it, I'll even use magic right here in the Ancestral Temple!"
Wolfram was out of breath; Gisela pushed him to the side and called out in a friendly voice, "Venerable Ulrike! Please open the door and tell us the whole story. Otherwise, this maniac will give you no peace. Venerable Oracle Priestess, you can trust me. I will personally vouch for your safety. I won't allow him to harm even a single hair on your head."
The stone double doors opened a fraction and through the gap, silver hair was visible. It was Ulrike.
"Really?" she asked tentatively.
"Yes, of course." Gisela bowed slowly to the highest priestess. "After all, it's the first time that you, venerable Ulrike, have made a mistake while performing a return trip, isn't that right?"
"I didn't make a mistake!"
"Oh no, of course not. You certainly did everything right. You were just interrupted by a disruptive force," soothed Gisela.
"That's it! We were disturbed. We did our best to lead His Majesty back to the other world, but we were attacked by an evil power."
The priestess went back into her chamber and sank weakly into a chair. Wolfram and Gisela followed her. Seeing Ulrike hit rock bottom wasn't an everyday occurrence.
"This time, we weren't the ones who called His Majesty here," said the priestess.
"I heard that too," muttered Wolfram.
"Nevertheless, it so happened that His Majesty's soul was brought into our world through the power of an unknown entity. As if that weren't enough, we weren't even able to send him back unharmed. And now we have lost track of him entirely. Never have I suffered such dishonor. Not since my birth 800 years ago."
"For an 800 year old, your skin looks quite youthful," observed Wolfram.
"Tell us, venerable Ulrike, how did the priestesses know that His Majesty was on his way to us?"
For a brief moment, an arrogant smile crept over the lips of the girl, but her gaze sank immediately back down again. "With the power that the mighty Original King has loaned to us, we are capable of determining the location of the souls of all the Demon Kings. This sight is not intended for the eyes of average mortals, but, very well, I will show it to you."
Wolfram was not exactly pleased to be referred to as an "average mortal," but he had no desire to start an argument over it at this time.
With small steps, Ulrike approached a wall and threw back the ceiling-high curtain with a deft movement. A milky sphere hovered over a black pedestal made out of slick obsidian. Like the inner skin of an egg, it was cloudy and unclear. One could have lifted it with two hands, but touching it seemed out of the question. It looked so delicate that it might dissolve into thin air any moment.
"Do you see the golden star there?" asked the priestess.
Like a map of the heavens, a number of stars twinkled inside the sphere. Four of them stood comparatively close together; the rest were farther spread out. The priestess gestured to a golden star that was positioned somewhat apart from the others, and shone more brightly than the rest.
“That is the soul of your mother, the previous Demon Queen Lady Cecille von Spitzweg.”
In truth, it made a decidedly feisty impression.
"Her star probably shines so brightly because she still possesses her powers as Demon Queen," Gisela said.
"I find it hard to believe that's the only reason," Wolfram disagreed.
Next, Ulrike pointed to the weakest of the four bright points that were close together. "And this erratically flickering light is the king before last. You can see clearly that his once great power is fading. This area here represents the Radford region. In the near future, His Majesty Bertrand will lose his immense powers as Demon King completely and lead a quiet life in retirement."
"You can even pinpoint their whereabouts?!" Gisela exclaimed.
"Inside the Empire's borders, yes. On human territory, not even I can determine their location, unfortunately. Take, for example, this golden light of Madam Cheri. Although I can tell that she is without a doubt in good health, I don't know where she is at this time. It must be somewhere very far away from our Empire. That lady is full of energy and always traveling. Oh!"
For a fleeting moment, another star flashed right next to the golden one, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. It had a strong blue-white luster, and its shape was more oblong than the others.
"What was that?" asked Wolfram.
"I don't know. Its radiance was abnormally strong, but unstable. It must come from quite a fearful being. There was an irregularity there that--"
"That was Yuri!"
Wolfram remembered Yuri's magic and how he had felt about it at the work camp of Svererra. His magic had been appalling and hideous. Apart from that, it had vacillated with extreme irregularity.
"It's true that an unstable flicker is always present in His Majesty's star. But that was definitely a large anomaly," the priestess gave voice to her doubts. "Oh, look! There is it again!"
Wolfram pressed the flat of his hand to his forehead to stave off the stabbing pain spreading through his sinuses. He swallowed down his rising tears.
"But where is he? Can you tell me what location he's in right now?" he asked the priestess.
"If what you say is really true, then His Majesty is in our world again. But not on demon territory. Unfortunately I cannot determine his current location."
"You’re 800 years old and you can't even tell that?!"
Ulrike bit her lip sharply. That move might come back to bite him...
"I don't have to take that from an 80 year old!" She swallowed.
Gisela sensed that Ulrike could break out in tears at any moment. "Your Excellency, I beg of you. What do you intend to accomplish with this rude behavior? You can't act like that towards a young girl."
"Young? She's 800 years old!" The young, pretty 82 year old man looked ashamed.
"Girls are still girls," Gisela said severely. "Age plays no role in it! Am I not right, venerable Ulrike? Really, it's always the same with you men."
She sounded a lot like Anissina.
Wolfram was forced to watch how the highest priestess, amid tears, managed a weak nod, whereupon his shoulders fell. What a defeat, when he was the one who was the spoiled princeling!
Was it perhaps possible that the Oracle Priestess Ulrike was in reality the exact opposite of what she appeared to be at first glance? Was she not a girl with the heart of an aged, senior priestess, but rather an old woman who still possessed the body and heart of a young girl? Wolfram was seized by a cold shiver at the thought.
"Good grief, fine, whatever," he sighed. "At least we know Yuri's alive now. I'll find out where he's got to myself. Oh, it lit up again!"
Right next to Cheri, an oblong star had appeared again. It looked like a comet dragging a tail along behind it. Compared to the golden light of Madam Cheri, it really did seem very erratic -- again and again it turned itself on and off.
"My mother's magic seems to be much more stable. Wait a minute, if both of those stars are so close together, could that mean..."
"No, by no means does that indicate that the two of them are together," the priestess interrupted in a whiny voice. "It may look that way to our eyes, but there might be whole cities between them in reality." Against her will, Ulrike admitted her defeat, but their quarrel had already become irrelevant to Wolfram.
"As long as they’re only one or two cities apart from each other, it's no problem. It'll be enough if we can isolate an approximate location. If we can believe these constellations of stars, Yuri must be very near to the previous queen. Possibly in the same country, but definitely on the same continent. Now we just need to know my mother's location."
The distinction between men and demons played no role in determining the destinations of Madam Cheri's Voyages of Free Love. The man she'd taken into the circle of her favorites for the last six months was a very well-to-do gentleman from a powerful empire. Aside from that, he was many times younger than she was.
"Simaron!" Wolfram remembered. "She let him give her castles and ships that were all registered in Simaron."
"Then the probability is high that His Majesty is also to be found there," said Gisela bleakly. Why did it have to be Simaron of all places? Of all the lands of men with hostile feelings towards the demon race, Simaron was the most powerful. Small Simaron and Big Simaron together formed the motherland, but their power was not limited to these regions. In the last decades, Simaron had brought nearly all the nations on the continent under its power. By now, Simaron ruled fully one quarter of the world. And according to the most recent information, Simaron had also taken possession of a forbidden "box." With the aid of this weapon, their combat strength might grow to be immeasurable. If Simaron did, in fact, employ this weapon, the future of the entire world was uncertain.
"At least we have a point of reference now," Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld said, turning on his heel and loudly stomping back the way he had come. Gisela hurried after him.
"What are you planning to do?" she asked.
"I will report back to Lord von Voltaire."
"And then?"
"I will wait for further orders."
"Orders?"
"Of course. Since Yuri isn't here, the command lies solely with my brother. And your adoptive father is, unfortunately, not fit for duty at this time, either."
"I know, he's a doll."
To distract Wolfram's thoughts, she described the beams that Gunter could shoot out of his eyes and his flying skills, but Wolfram didn't seem in the mood to laugh at the moment.
"I'm wondering about Yuri's star."
"Its shape was somewhat protracted."
"Yes. The difference to the others was simply too great. And the magnitude of its radiance was much greater."
"Maybe he's not alone? Maybe Conrad is by his side? I heard that his body was never found. Maybe they're together after all, even if he did lose an arm. After all, His Excellency would do anything to protect our king."
"If that were the case, I wouldn't be concerned at all. At least, not this kind of concern. But it's pretty improbable that Lord Weller affected his radiance, since he has no magic at his disposal. That's also why his location can't be determined like that of Yuri and my mother."
"That's true, of course. But what can have become of Conrad?" Gisela murmured -- it sounded much like a sigh.
It suddenly dawned on Wolfram: Gisela's heart belonged to Conrad! Conrad had always been a heart-throb to women. It was no surprise that one woman or another would be hopelessly in love with him. Concern for him had driven Gisela to visit the Ancestral Temple of the Original King and to offer up a sacrifice for him.
In speculation on matters of love, the beautiful young man's fantasies proved none too imaginative.
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